Three Hours
by emrie
Summary: The stuff we never saw between Josh’s decision to take a vacation and Donna meeting him on the plane.


Summary: the stuff we never saw between Josh's decision to take a vacation and Donna meeting him on the plane.

Rating: PG

Author's Notes: This is my first WW fanfic.

Feedback: Would love to hear anything you want to share.

Donna's cell phone rang while she was in the White House, where she was overseeing the copying of files that were being sent over to the OEOB during the transition. For the first time in over a week she didn't get butterflies seeing the name on the caller ID. Only dread, after that awful conversation that morning. She'd pushed too hard, and now he was probably calling to tell her he'd decided what they were. Or rather, weren't.

She spun away from the aides who were helping her and flipped open the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey." Just like him, no other prelude besides a breathless syllable. "How soon can you be packed and at Dulles?"

"Are you sending me somewhere?"

"How soon?" he repeated. She could hear papers being shuffled in the background. He knocked something off his desk and it clattered on the floor.

Better to humor him when he was in a mood like this. "Uh, I'd say…three hours?"

"Three hours?" He moved the phone away from his mouth but didn't cover it, so she could hear him say "Otto, better make it the 7:05, okay?"

"Josh? What's going on?"

"We're going to Hawaii."

Oh god. He'd finally snapped. Traveling too much and not enough sleep. "Josh," she said gently, "the campaign's over."

"I know. That's why we're going."

"Wait. I don't understand."

"I, uh, realized today," he cleared his throat and finished more declaratively, "I need a vacation. A break. So…Hawaii. One week. You and me."

She felt her knees go weak. Had she really understood him correctly? "What?" the question came out more faintly than she would have liked.

"I mean," he faltered, his voice going up in the way she knew meant he was nervous, "I mean, if you, you know…want to?"

"I do," she amended quickly, regaining her balance. "Want to, I mean. I-I'll be there."

"Great." She could hear the smile in his voice, the relief. "Okay."

Her own smile was automatic in response. "Okay."

"Okay," he said again.

"So, I should meet you…?" she prompted.

"Right." He put the phone aside again, she could hear the consulting murmur of voices, then he was back. "Terminal B. Delta. Your ticket will be there."

"The 7:05?" She was jotting down the information on the edge of the file she was still holding. "I'll meet you at the gate."

He breathed out, as if he'd been holding his breath thus far. "Okay."

"Okay."

"Okay."

She smiled. He was stuck again. "All right. I'll see you soon."

Donna snapped the phone shut and turned to the awaiting aides, looking at her in open-faced confusion. She could feel herself shifting into high gear. "Listen, guys, something just came up, so I'm gonna have to run but I'll have Ronna come over and supervise what you're doing, okay?" Without waiting for an answer she was already striding down the hall, dialing a new number in her phone.

She'd known for years that the walk from her office in the White House to the OEOB was long enough for three well-timed phone calls, four if she were leaving messages or being particularly efficient. Back when Josh used to send her on errands across the street she'd always planned ahead to knock off a few calls on her call-list on the way. Multi-tasking had always been key.

That afternoon she was on top of her game, because she managed four calls before even walking in the door to the transition offices. One to Ronna, asking her to go takeover what she'd been doing. One to Helen Santos, assuring her that she was definitely excited about the job offer and would let her know as soon as she got back from an unexpected trip. One to Laurel Brown, the woman from accounting who was subletting her apartment, letting her know that she was going to stop by and pick up some stuff she'd left there. And one to CJ, saying that she'd be gone for a week but not to worry, she'd explain everything later.

Her apartment smelled like air freshener and fresh flowers, and was certainly more lived-in looking than it ever had been when Donna was there. Under other circumstances she might have snooped around, inspected the place and the changes Laurel had made, reacquainted herself with a home she hadn't seen in months. But today she only had time to hurry to the corner in the living room where Laurel had hidden her boxes under a few floral sheets, rifling through the one marked "Summer Clothes."

She started pulling out cotton skirts and knit tank-tops before realizing that they were all work clothes, suitable for an air conditioned office in July, not a beachside vacation. She dug deeper into the box, hoping there were articles of clothing she'd forgotten. Eventually she managed to scrounge up a few casual skirts, a pair of khaki shorts, and some more casual summer shirts. Still, it was a paltry selection, wrinkled and stale-smelling and distinctly less than glamorous. It only took a moment to shake off that thought, however, as she reminded herself that Josh of all people would never notice what she was wearing. If she was wearing anything at all, that is…

A quick stop at CJ's soon after and she was packed, having unceremoniously dumped her work clothes from her suitcase and filled it with the stuff she'd bundled from her apartment. She still hadn't unpacked her toiletries or personal bag from the campaign, given that her situation at CJ's was temporary, and so she was out the door again within minutes.

The reality of the trip didn't really hit her until the woman at the Delta counter handed over the ticket with "Donnatella Moss" printed at the top. Something about her name in tandem with the destination of Honolulu, HI hit home, and Donna's stomach turned over. She noticed that Josh had given her the middle seat of the row, presumably taking the window for himself, knowing that sitting by the window made her nervous. She hadn't mentioned that to him in years, and couldn't believe he had remembered that quirk of hers.

The terminal was bustling with early December vacationers, and after so long on the campaign trail Donna had to stop and remind herself that she was one of the regular travelers there, not an exhausted political operative preparing to greet the fifth city in the past twenty-four hours.

The flight was already boarding when she reached the gate, so she jumped in line, scanning the crowd for that familiar face. It took her a minute to spot him because he was wearing jeans and a blue button-down over a t-shirt. Donna realized that, short of his being somewhat undressed of late, she hadn't seen him wear anything but work clothing in…years. Maybe back in the early days he used to sometimes go casual on the weekends, but she honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him that way. She was impressed he still owned things other than suits, and knew where to find them, especially given her own recent struggle to find clothing.

At that moment he turned, as if sensing her behind him, and caught her eye, mouthed "hey," the look in his eyes warm and sexy and tender in a way that was still so new, it gave her pause every time she saw it. She smiled, returned the greeting, the nervous twisting of her stomach finally settling. She hadn't misunderstood. They were really doing this.

The line started moving. Donna handed over her ticket and boarded, keeping an eye on Josh's blue shirt just ahead of her.


End file.
